


Lines Of Lightning

by UniverseOnHerShoulders



Series: The Chronicles of Impossibility [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-14 19:51:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10543392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniverseOnHerShoulders/pseuds/UniverseOnHerShoulders
Summary: Clara Oswald was impatient, irritable, and immaculately dressed. Nothing out of the ordinary. Well, nothing other than the pregnancy test that was balanced on the sink opposite her. That, and the Time Lord waiting outside the bathroom door.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheSaddleman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSaddleman/gifts).



> This is an idea that's been sat in my fic ideas folder for a really long time but I haven't done anything with for months... about two paragraphs in, it decided it wanted to fit in with my _Chronicles_ series, which you don't need to have read to enjoy this.

Clara Oswald was perched on the edge of a bathtub, staring miserably at her watch and counting down the minutes until she could look at the plastic stick that was resting on the edge of the washbasin. There was probably a way she could have got the TARDIS to scan her or probe her or whatever the hell semi-sentient time machines did to ascertain pregnancy, but that method involved trying to get the TARDIS onside and ensuring the ship wouldn’t tell the Doctor, and Clara didn’t particularly fancy her odds in that department. Instead she’d borrowed the ship while the Time Lord was distracted with his latest mechanical project; piloting it back to London and slinking into Boots with a misplaced sense of shame, before finding the necessary product and paying for it in mortified silence. Regardless of the fact she was well over thirty, with a semi-stable home and a semi-normal other half, part of her was still embarrassed. 

She’d come back to the ship and flung them into the vortex, downed a truly impressive amount of water, peed on the stick, and now she was counting down until her imminent doom. With each passing second, she could feel her apprehension growing, and she was fighting the urge to simply snatch up the piece of plastic ahead of time and check the little window for the result.

“Clara?” The Doctor’s voice made her jump, accompanied as it was by the rap of knuckles on the wooden door that divided her from… well, the real world. Real-ish. As real as the TARDIS could reasonably be considered to be. “Are you OK? You’ve been in there for ages and I’m getting kind of worried.” 

“I’m fine,” she mumbled, but tears sprang to her eyes unbidden and choked her words. “So absolutely definitely fine.”

“Not fine,” he countered, and there was the muted buzz of the sonic, accompanied by the sound of the lock clicking open. Before her husband could step inside Clara darted across the bathroom, grabbed the pregnancy test and shoved it up her sleeve, before tossing back her hair and pasting a wide, sunny smile onto her face. As the Time Lord crossed the threshold, she let out a shaky breath, then noticed that he wasn’t alone and cursed inwardly. “Hey.”

“Mummy,” the little girl in his arms said, smiling and holding her arms out to her, before tilting her head to the side as she considered Clara’s expression of faux-normalcy. “Mummy, you look scared.” 

“I’m fine,” she said, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand and redoubling her efforts to smile. “Really. Just feeling a bit worn out.” 

The little girl reached towards her all the more insistently, all grabby hands and errant limbs, then seemed to realise that Clara wasn’t going to take her and instead scrambled down from her father’s arms and attached herself to her mother’s legs, clinging to them tightly. “Mummy.”

“You’re getting tall,” Clara teased, trying to change the subject and sound more upbeat than she felt. “Nearly at my waist already.” 

“She’ll outgrow you soon,” the Doctor tipped her a light-hearted wink, although his eyes betrayed his concern. “Maybe by her fifth birthday…” 

“Idiot,” Clara told him, reaching down to stroke her little girl’s dark hair back from her face and smiling fondly. “I hope not.” 

Their daughter sucked in a sharp breath, and Clara realised her error in an instant. “Mummy’s worried about something to do with time,” she told her father in a rush, and Clara scowled down at her. “We’ve interrupted her.” 

“Emma Eleanor Amelia Oswald-Smith,” Clara snapped, looking down and meeting her gaze with as much sternness as she could muster. Her hazel eyes bored into Emma’s, and the little girl bit her lip as she realised she’d done something wrong. “What have I told you about doing that?” 

“Sorry,” the little girl mumbled, stepping away from Clara and trying to hide herself behind her father as she realised she’d crossed a line. “Oops.” 

“Clara?” the Doctor asked, ignoring Emma’s misdeed. “What are you worried about?” 

“Nothing,” she said quickly, reaching up and dragging her hand through her hair as she forced a laugh. “Nothing, it’s fine, she’s mistaken.” 

“I’m not stupid, Clara. Nor is she.” 

“Never said you were. Quite the opposite in fact, you’re really both very bri-” 

“Are you ill?”

“No! For god sake, it’s not bloody fair when she snitches on me!” 

“Sorry,” Emma said again, her lip wobbling dangerously as she looked up at Clara with wide, sad eyes. “Mummy, please don’t be cross.” 

“Oh, princess,” Clara said at once, feeling a swooping sense of guilt and crouching, holding her arms out to Emma, who stepped into them with great reluctance. “I’m not cross, just a bit annoyed. We’ve told you before, it’s OK for you to read what I’m thinking but you can’t just blurt it out loud to other people.” 

“Sorry,” Emma said again, burrowing into her mother’s neck, and Clara wrapped her arms around the little girl before pressing a kiss to her temple in an apologetic gesture. “I’m learning.” 

“You are,” Clara told her gently, then noticed that the Doctor had lapsed into silence and was staring at her with abject shock. Following his gaze, she noticed the end of the pregnancy test poking out from her sleeve, and felt her heart sink as she realised she would have to explain herself. “Ah, shit.”

“Is that…” he stammered, eyes going wide in disbelief. “Is that a… a… are you…” 

“Yes, and I don’t know,” she told him as calmly as she was able, cursing her own carelessness. “That’s what I was doing when I was _rudely interrupted_.” He reached into his pocket for the sonic, but she held up her hand warningly, and he stilled. “No. Not a chance, you’re not using that on me. If I have to do this, I’m doing it the human way.” 

“Why were you hiding it?” he asked accusatorily after a moment of silence, as Emma looked between her parents in confusion. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Daddy-”

“Because I didn’t want you to get your hopes up, and I didn’t know if it was the right time for… _this_ , and besides, the chance didn’t come up to-” 

“When you say ‘not the right time’,” he asked, brow furrowing as he looked down at her. “Do you mean you might not want it?” 

“Mummy, what-” 

“No!” Clara said at once, ignoring Emma’s question. “God, no, I just… after Gallifrey and River and everything, it’s all been manic enough, especially what with Little Miss here,” she stroked her daughter’s hair, smiling at her reassuringly in order to avoid looking at the Doctor. “I wanted to focus on her, and this is just… I don’t know. A shock. I thought we might have more time to sort of… prepare ourselves for the possibility.” 

“Well, what makes you think you might be? We haven’t… you know.” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Clara said drily, meeting his gaze and arching an eyebrow. “There was that night out with Kate and Osgood where you kept buying us rounds of drinks, and we came back here and you were _very_ enthusiastic about the matter in question. So, it could have been that. Failing that, one of my eighty-five boyfriends.” 

“Hilarious,” he deadpanned, then winced at what could only be a recollection of that night. “I didn’t even think we…” 

“Nice to know it was a memorable event.” 

“Mummy,” Emma whined, evidently frustrated by her parents’ refusal to listen to or answer her questions. “What are you talking about?” 

“It doesn’t matter, sweetheart.” 

“Does,” the little girl protested, grabbing for the plastic stick and drawing it out of her mother’s sleeve before either parent could stop her. “Why does it say ‘Positive: 7-8 weeks?’ What’s positive about that?” 

“Oh hell,” Clara muttered, pulling away from their daughter and putting her head in her hands as the crashing realisation that she was pregnant dawned on her. “Oh, Christ. Here we go again.” 

“Clara?” the Doctor asked, stepping forward, his brow furrowed in worry. “It’s alr-” 

Much to her considerable consternation, Clara leant forward and threw up on his shoes. 

“Ewwww,” Emma said at once, scrambling away from Clara in revulsion. “Mummy, that’s _gross._ Poor dad.” 

“It’s fine,” he told their daughter calmly, as Clara felt a twinge of embarrassment, and grabbed for a nearby towel to wipe her mouth on. “We can clean them.” 

“Whatever mummy’s positive about, she can’t be very positive about it or she wouldn’t have been sick,” Emma reasoned, wrinkling her nose. “Poor mummy.” 

“Sweetheart,” Clara managed after a moment, her cheeks burning with mortification. “Could you please go and fetch me a glass of water?” 

“Sure,” the little girl backed off, looking relieved to be leaving the bathroom. “Be right back.” 

She disappeared down the corridor as the Doctor removed his Doc Martens and set them in the bathtub, grimacing only fractionally as he did so. “Sorry,” Clara said weakly, scooting across the room on her haunches until her back met the blessed coolness of the tiled wall. “I’ll clean them later.” 

“Don’t be daft, you’ll do no such thing,” he said at once, stepping around the puddle of sick she’d left and sinking to the floor beside her, pulling her into his arms gently. “Oh, my Clara.” 

“I’m sorry,” she said again, bursting into tears and nuzzling into his chest, threading her fingers through the holes in his hoodie as she wept. “I’m really sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” he murmured, kissing her forehead and raising one hand to stroke her hair back from her face, forcing her to meet his gaze as he did so. “We can absolutely do this, OK? We can manage this, and it’ll be alright. I promise you.”

“Will it?”

“It will,” he told her firmly. “We’re a family, it’s what we do. I know it’ll be… different, now, but we can do this. Think how happy Emma will be to know she’s going to have a baby brother or sister.” 

“True,” Clara smiled at the thought, then her face fell as she cast her mind back to her previous pregnancy. “What if I get ill again? What if it all goes wrong?” 

“After last time, I sincerely doubt it,” he kissed her forehead again, and she tried to relax. “Your biology has already altered enough to keep you safe. But we’ll keep an eye on you, and take good care of you. No joyriding near your due date this time. You’re going to be the safest of safe.” 

“I’m scared,” she confessed quietly, her voice little more than a whisper. “Really scared.” 

“I know, Clara. But I’m here for you, and I won’t let anything bad happen. Besides, look how great Emma turned out. No need to worry about that side of things.” 

“Good point,” she acquiesced, looking up as their daughter returned, holding aloft a glass of water and edging around the puddle of sick. “Thanks darling.” 

“It’s OK, mummy. Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine, baby,” Clara accepted the glass and sipped at it gratefully, before setting it aside and holding her arms out to the little girl, who clambered onto her lap without hesitation. “Mummy and daddy have some news.” 

“Clara, is it really a good idea to-” 

“She’d read it from one of us soon anyway, so shut up and give her the sonic specs, idiot. On the right setting, ideally.” 

“Better idea,” the Doctor smirked and reached into an inner pocket, whipping out the now-barely used sonic sunglasses and poking the nosepiece with a fingertip before setting them carefully onto his daughter’s face. “Look at mummy and tell me what you see.” 

“Urm,” Emma held the too-big sunglasses up as she peered at her mother in confusion. “I don’t know, she looks all normal to me.” 

“Does she?” 

“Rude,” Clara teased. “I’m very normal.” She reached over and gently tilted her daughter’s head downwards. “Look.”

The little girl fell silent for a second, before shoving the glasses up to the crown of her head, blinking at her parents in wonder. “Mummy…?” she asked, her voice full of hope. “Is it a baby? Are you having a baby?” 

“Yes,” Clara laughed, as Emma squealed and flung her arms around her neck. “It’s very, very early yet though, so you’ll have to wait a long time before you get to meet them.” 

“I want it to be a baby sister,” Emma said decisively. “I want a baby sister and then we can play superheroes and she can be my partner in crime. And daddy can teach her to play the guitar too and we can do painting and things together and it’ll be the _best_.” 

“You could do all of that with a baby brother too, though,” Clara noted, although she had to admit that another daughter would be wonderful. “And that’d be fun as well.” 

“Boys are icky,” Emma wrinkled her nose, and the Doctor chuckled. “Want a baby sister.” 

“Well,” Clara grinned. “You’ll have to wait and see. Maybe you could pick her name. Would you like that?” 

“What about Rose?” the Doctor proposed. “That’s a good name.”

Clara affixed him with a warning look. “Emma is naming the baby, and besides, we are not naming it after your ex-girlfriend.” 

“Current girlfriend,” he reminded her, failing to notice her half-glare. “But in another dime-” 

“Shut up,” she said firmly, turning her attention back to Emma. “Emma?” 

“I like Isla,” the little girl said, smiling brightly. “Isla Melody, after… you know.” 

“That’s a beautiful name,” Clara told her, feeling her eyes grow wet with tears as she embraced her daughter. “Oh, baby, you’re going to be the best big sister.” 

“And you’ll be the best mummy and daddy.”


End file.
